


A young girl’s dream

by Bluespirit



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-14
Updated: 2008-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluespirit/pseuds/Bluespirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take two ridiculously attractive men, one party & a sprinkling of fanon clichés & stir well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A young girl’s dream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. The characters and universe are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions and the Sci-Fi Channel. This fic is meant solely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.

Rodney wasn’t exactly sure who was to blame, though he was fairly certain that Keller had something to do with it. All that giggly, fresh-faced enthusiasm and gushing to Carter about how the ‘Winterval’ party - and who the hell had thought up that particular multi-denominational get-out anyway? - had been such a boost for morale and wouldn’t it be great if they could do that kind of thing more often. Yeah, he was pretty sure that his current level of excruciating suffering was all Keller’s fault. He knew that she’d missed out on a lot of stuff due to her accelerated education (a Satedan in love could be a surprising tattle-tale) and Rodney could relate - been there, done that - but that hardly justified the need to inflict the junior prom on the rest of them, thank you very much. And what was Carter’s excuse anyway?

The gate room looked like it had been decorated by a team of colour-blind sixth graders. The bastard love child of Cupid and Hallmark had obviously puked up over everything, and any and all available surfaces were strewn with Pepto-Bismol pink hearts and doves and god only knew what else. At least no one had actually decorated the gate itself, though it was a close run thing by the looks of the huge bunches of bilious red, white and pink heart-shaped balloons floating lazily in the air-conditioned breeze. A Valentine's party? It looked more like a scene from the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre - Capone would’ve been so proud. Bland techno-pop was corrupting the city’s PA system - if he heard ‘Hit me baby, one more time’ he seriously might - and Zelenka was hovering suspiciously near the buffet with the air of a man who regularly cooked up rocket-fuel-grade hooch and had just shamelessly spiked the punch.

Rodney sighed morosely and huddled further back into the corner where he was most definitely not hiding. Why couldn’t the floor just open up and swallow him now?

“Hey, buddy.”

Rodney smiled in relief as John ambled over and leaned against the wall next to him. All the senior staff had been strongly encouraged to attend - or in Rodney’s case, flat out ordered to by an evilly smiling Carter - and John was looking perfectly at ease as he grinned at Rodney and bumped his shoulder. He was also looking incredibly hot in a black shirt hanging loose over jeans, the sleeves rolled back to reveal strong, tanned forearms and the wide black wristband that always did weird things to Rodney’s insides - or maybe it was the memory of John stretched out naked on Rodney’s bed wearing nothing but the damn wristband that did that. Either way, having John by his side was the one spark of light in this otherwise endless sea of all-engulfing dark despair, lip-gloss and Britney Spears, also known as The Atlantis Valentine Celebration.

“Having fun yet?” John winked.

“Of course, I’m not,” Rodney snapped but there was no heat to it. “I’m stuck here in some high school nightmare - complete with enough slow dancing and power ballads to sink the Eighties - when I’ve got any number of very important projects that I could be doing right now.”

“Yeah,” John nodded, “like me.” He leered ridiculously.

“Precisely,” Rodney said, though he couldn’t smother the laugh; John was such a big dork sometimes, though a damn sexy dork. He really would prefer to be back in his quarters right now - maybe mapping out every freckle on John’s back with his tongue - but instead he was trapped in pink-streamered hell, watching left-footed scientists trying to do the Macarena with drunken Marines. How was this even remotely fair?

“Look, we only have to stay long enough to show our faces and do our duty, then we can leave,” John said. “That way everyone else can let their hair down and have a good time and we can get back to those ‘projects’ of yours.”

That was more like it. “Okay, we can do that,” Rodney nodded, checking his watch to see when they could reasonably make their exit and factoring in how quickly he could get John out of his clothes and into his bed. Thirty minutes for schmoozing? An hour tops, including the buffet, and then five minutes to get back to his quarters. Okay, he could work with that. Things were definitely looking up.

“Sheppard! McKay!” The shout broke through Rodney’s ‘Get John Naked’ strategic planning session and he glanced up to see a grinning Ronon pointing gleefully at something above their heads with a frankly disturbing gleam in his eye.

“You know the rules,” Ronon said, pointing again and then folding his arms across his chest with a definite ‘don’t mess with me’ look.

“Oh, no. Please tell me he didn’t,” Rodney muttered, lifting his head wearily.

“He did,” John chuckled, nodding at a sorry-looking bunch of wilted mistletoe hanging precariously above their heads. It had definitely seen better days; most of the berries had dropped off and the leaves were brown and bedraggled.

“Will someone please explain to the Ghost of Christmas Conan here that mistletoe is just a stupid yuletide thing and that he doesn’t have to drag it out for every event on Atlantis’s heady social calendar?” Ronon had adopted this particular festive custom with astonishing and somewhat terrifying enthusiasm, though he tended to approach it as more of a year-round practice.

“He knows, Rodney,” John smiled. “He just doesn’t care.”

Ronon nodded happily and pointed again. “Come on, McKay. You two are standing right under it. Get on with it.”

“Yeah, come on, Rodney,” John grinned, more boyish and charming than any forty-something had any right to be. “You heard the man. Pucker up - it is tradition after all.”

John’s face was open, his smile soft and real, and who was Rodney to resist that? He cupped John’s neck and pulled him closer, pressing his lips to the warmth of that smile and then teasing it apart, a tiny flick of tongue as a promise for later. But then John shuddered, his chest solid heat as he pushed himself against Rodney and suddenly things weren’t so simple. He deepened the kiss, desperate for more; the press of John’s body a shocking blaze against him, his thickening erection a brand across his thigh. Remembering where they were, he gathered his self-control and gentled the kiss, giving them both a moment before slowly pulling away.

“Okay then,” Ronon grunted, clearly satisfied, and then gave a thoroughly disconcerting wink as he grabbed the mistletoe and strolled away into the noise of the party.

John’s eyes were bright with want and Rodney could feel the flush rising in his own cheeks. Who cared about the damn party anyway? He did a quick mental calculation and revised his previous estimate, figuring that if they skipped the buffet and left right now he could have John naked and panting under him in approximately three minutes - time management was one of his skills, after all. Nodding a general goodbye to the happily oblivious, dancing throng around them, he grabbed John’s wrist and lead him towards the nearest transporter.

Three minutes and counting. Oh, and he was going to have to see about getting Ronon some new mistletoe - it really wouldn’t do to let important traditions die out, now would it.

  
The end

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://gblvr.livejournal.com/profile)[ **gblvr**](http://gblvr.livejournal.com/) wrote a lovely fic called ['Mistletoe'](http://community.livejournal.com/sga_santa/115757.html) involving a mistletoe-wielding Ronon. I think that delightful image may have planted a subconscious seed for my incarnation of mistletoe!Ronon and I’m indebted to her. ♥  
> 


End file.
